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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25657201">Lifeblood</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/haku23/pseuds/haku23'>haku23</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Vampire, F/M, Human/Vampire Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:41:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,107</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25657201</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/haku23/pseuds/haku23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>They rarely discuss the arrangement they have. For Hubert, it seems as though it is just natural that he be the one who she drinks from. For herself, she cannot imagine it being anyone else even if she prefers it be no one at all. </p><p>Or: Edelgard is a vampire, Hubert is a snack.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Edelgard von Hresvelg/Hubert von Vestra</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Based on a conversation with my friend I lost in the great Group Chat Discord Deletion of 2020... all u gotta know is Edelgard is a vampire, it's set in academy days and post-timeskip, Hubert is lunch and Does Not Mind In The Slightest, and try not to think too hard upon most other things because this is a thinly veiled excuse for me to write horny vampire au shit without having to make a whole ass modern AU I'll never finish. I haven't written fic in awhile so I'm rusty.... no beta we die like glenn etc. </p><p>Warning right away: Edelgard is throwing up directly below this, because she can't eat human food so like. beware.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s a foolish idea, and yet, she does it. Something about the professor makes her do things she knows better than to do.</p><p> </p><p>Of course, the fact that she currently retches into the bushes is the price she pays for the tea party, an indulgence in nostalgia even if this time at Garegg Mach will soon fall victim to the same fate. A time looked upon fondly, before she tears it all down, and she wonders if this moment too of wiping the spit from her mouth will grow fuzzy with time and become yet another rose coloured memory.</p><p> </p><p>She doubts it. Her stomach twists again, but there’s nothing left.</p><p> </p><p>It’s less of his footsteps or smell but his aura that alerts her of his presence-Hubert is adept at lurking in the shadows, though his reasons are more utilitarian than survival.</p><p> </p><p>“Hubert, how long have you been there?” she asks, as though neither of them know that he has been just out of view the entire time, even during her time with the professor.</p><p> </p><p>“I only just arrived, my lady. The professor said you looked… under the weather,” he answers with lies chosen carefully, though she isn’t sure for whose benefit they are for.</p><p> </p><p>“I see. Yes. I suppose that covers it.”</p><p> </p><p>He stands far enough away to be polite, but close enough that no one will see him in her abrupt hiding place. His face is barren of expression, and yet she finds the emotions there anyway. But, as they both know, she is already well aware of her own carelessness though she doubts Hubert will use such a word for it.</p><p> </p><p>“Perhaps an early night might be prudent,” he says, and she hums her agreement.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, that may be for the best.”</p><p> </p><p>To let the others see her like this, even the professor to see her like this, has the power to jeopardize everything she has worked for so far. A moment of weakness can destroy everything, and so she must not allow herself even another second of it.</p><p> </p><p>Edelgard sticks to the shaded areas of the pathway to the dormitories; the salve she wears protects her skin long enough that it can withstand some time in the sun, but she prefers not to risk it. Hubert does the same if only to prevent her from appearing out of the ordinary.</p><p> </p><p>Once in the safety of her room and alone, she takes up the reading material from the previous day’s class; it isn’t as though she hasn’t already read it, but activities are in short supply during the day.</p><p> </p><p>She hears the pages of Hubert’s journal turning, the scratch of a quill, and his soft sigh of frustration even through the thick stone walls. She hears too the students down the hall talking of someone in hushed voices, and the way their heartbeats quicken whenever they think they may hear that ill-favoured person coming. She hears the dinner bell ring, and Hubert get up. He rarely eats, even if he requires it, but appearances must be kept. It isn’t long before he returns with a plate for each of them.</p><p> </p><p>She finds she misses the food itself little, but the act of sitting down to a meal with friends she feels the absence of like a missing limb. The scent of the steak is enough, and Hubert turns to go before she calls out.</p><p> </p><p>“My lady?” he turns to face her once again, one of his brows very nearly raised in question.</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing, do not worry yourself over it.”</p><p> </p><p>“I see,” he replies, and stands at the door with his plate in hand, “very well.”</p><p> </p><p>Leave it to him to understand, even if she barely manages the words. Another embarrassing weakness; she nearly tells him to leave after all, surely he has better things to do than to sit with her while she plays at humanity but she cannot bring those words to her tongue either.</p><p> </p><p>“Sit,” she says instead. And he does, something she cannot identify on his face. That happens more often, despite their understanding of one another, she wonders if that too will be another of his secrets or if he will answer if she asks. She keeps the questions behind her teeth; she has asked enough of him tonight already.</p><p> </p><p>She averts her gaze while he eats, it is no doubt unsettling to have her watch him, though it would not have been the first or second time she found her eyes resting upon him for too long. Better then to prevent it entirely, to let the thoughts of the blood rushing through his veins be eased from her mind by the sound of the scraping of cutlery.</p><p> </p><p>“A meal eating a meal,” he says in a deadpan voice others have misidentified as disdain, though for anyone but her she supposes it may in fact be.</p><p> </p><p>She exhales a breath she no longer needs, that he correctly identifies as a laugh and she feels her lips turn up despite herself.</p><p> </p><p>“No real loss,” he continues. She watches him stare at a cube of meat, “the cooks lack the ability to recognize when they have overcooked something; a shame.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not everyone likes their steak bloody, Hubert.”</p><p> </p><p>“I suppose not.”</p><p> </p><p>“One would think you the monster, with preferences like that.”</p><p> </p><p>“The only monster here is whomever cooked this meat,” he replies, that expression returning to his face. Pity? No, he has never pitied her in the same way as others may have but it cannot be admiration either. He slices another cut of meat off of the steak with vigour, and she looks away again, missing the way he looks at her.</p><p> </p><p>~~</p><p> </p><p>They rarely discuss the arrangement they have. For Hubert, it seems as though it is just natural that he be the one who she drinks from. For herself, she cannot imagine it being anyone else even if she prefers it be no one at all. As soon as her “affliction” as the doctors had called it became clear he had appeared to her with his wrist already bloody and begging her to drink. She had done so with little thought then, too starving for elegance but now the goblet of blood he presents her with every fortnight is passed without words, or fanfare, and drank the same way. This isn’t the crimson path she imagined, but he lays it before her anyway in droplets from his own veins.</p><p> </p><p>Today, however, it has been too long. Her body aches with the familiar hunger, and she has gotten through her classes and training by willpower alone, but now that nothing keeps her mind from it every one of her senses is honed on her need. This feels more a weakness than the other day after the tea party, the hunger gnaws at her like the bile in her throat.</p><p> </p><p>“Edie, you look ill, are you alright?” Dorothea asks. Her hand rests on Edelgard’s arm, and she manages a smile. Her pulse jumps against Edelgard’s skin, and she takes a breath to steady herself.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course. I just-“</p><p> </p><p>“If you will excuse us, Dorothea, Lady Edelgard has a prior engagement to attend to,” Hubert answers for her and this close she has to clench her teeth against the way her instincts are responding. Her mouth waters, as though she just smelt the most delicious food after a long day of training and in a way, she has, shameful as it may be.</p><p> </p><p>“Forgive me, my lady, I had not noticed,” he says the minute they step out of the classroom. As though it somehow falls to him to manage her hunger that seems to come more often lately. They know little of how much she needs and so they have settled upon their current arrangement, just enough to keep her alive and not desperate enough to feed upon anyone else. As she grows older however it seems as though her hunger only increases in intensity, and the effects of going without hamper her more.</p><p> </p><p>“No, I can stand another day.”</p><p> </p><p>“With respect-“</p><p> </p><p>She shakes her head-surely she can handle this. With everything else upon her shoulders, this will be nothing. They remain silent until no one else mills about, and she continues as they walk in the direction of the training grounds. “Another day, Hubert, I can handle it.”</p><p> </p><p>The other things, the experiments, the training, this; all of them are just down to her own will in the end. Another second, another cut, another hour, another day, one foot in front of the other. If she just continues she has no time to think about any of it. The blood keeps her alive, as it has for the past decade, but it isn’t what keeps her going.</p><p> </p><p>“Lady Edelgard, you need not suffer for my sake.”</p><p> </p><p>“It is for no one’s sake but Fodlan’s.”</p><p> </p><p>For her own good he denies her many things, but he will not deny her this she knows. Only the hunger keeps her from feeling the shame of having to ask; it will not be the first time she feels embarrassment roiling in her gut of course and she isn’t fool enough to think it will be the last. She has access to him now whenever she has need of him, but far more than a wall will be separating them come her ascension to the throne even if Hubert’s room will remain nearby to her own.</p><p> </p><p>For a moment their eyes meet, and then he sighs, but says no more against it. “As you wish.”</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you, Hubert.”</p><p> </p><p>“There is no thanks necessary, Lady Edelgard.”</p><p> </p><p>He appears before her that night anyway. She smells him before she sees him with her arm slung over her eyes as it is. More accurately, she smells his blood, and the world narrows to that. A test then, of her resolve. Anyone else would see it as disobedience, but she knows him and this kindness.</p><p> </p><p>Her gums split as her canines grow in spite of her clenched jaw but that pain barely registers, not when every other part of her aches so fiercely from her vigorous training and her hunger. She needs no air, and yet she breathes out through her teeth anyway. Which is it that pains her more now? The hunger, her mouth, or the cursed blood that runs through her veins reducing her to this, she cannot decide.  </p><p> </p><p>She hears his pulse coming steadily, and his three knocks that follow the same rhythm. “What is it?” she asks through grit teeth.</p><p> </p><p>“I had hoped to review the latest lesson with you.”</p><p> </p><p>Leave it to Hubert to make this as difficult as possible. She answers in the affirmative and he enters with his books in a bag, but she can already tell something is off. He bleeds, somewhere. Likely the wrist he typically cuts for her, but this time he has forgone the bandage. Her eyes catch sight of crimson just beginning to creep onto the wrist of his white glove like petals of a flower.</p><p> </p><p>“Lady Edelgard?” he asks, and she realizes she has spent far too long with her eyes fixed upon that spot.</p><p> </p><p>With a shake of her head she answers, “Forgive me. Yes, the latest lesson.”</p><p> </p><p>He gives her no praise, or acknowledgement, which she prefers. It isn’t praise she seeks for dragging her eyes away from his wound, she needs to become stronger. When she can ignore it completely, then she will count it as a victory.</p><p> </p><p>He sits the same distance from her as usual, but it feels as though he is closer. Her senses all focus on the copper scent of his blood, the thud of his heart, the memory of her last meal and how satisfied she feels afterwards. It’s just the same as training, she needs only to push past her body’s limits and then she will seize her victory.</p><p> </p><p>Her quill shakes as they go through the lesson once again, Hubert humming in agreement when she says something about the theory of dark magic he finds correct, but she keeps her focus upon the parchment and books in front of her.</p><p> </p><p>Until.</p><p> </p><p>He shifts, and she hears as much as she smells the renewed flow of blood from his wrist. Her hands are around his arm before either of them realize, and her fingers dig into the fabric of his uniform. His heartbeat is all she hears; a steady thump like war drums in her ears. He stays as he is, and she sucks in a breath through her nose as though it will do anything for her already frayed nerves.</p><p> </p><p>It feels like the first time, when the hunger felt like the same cold steel used to cut her flesh. Weak. She wants to let go, but her hands refuse to move like a cat protecting its favourite toy.</p><p> </p><p>“Lady Edelgard,” Hubert says without any softness others may have wanted. If he acts kind now she may fail. Instead he eases her grip from his arm, though he has to pry her fingers up one by one, “It is only quarter to 12.”</p><p> </p><p>The candle drips wax onto the desk in front of them, the flame still burning brightly despite the occasional sputter as it gets closer to the end of its life.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>If she retained the ability to blush she may have, it is only Hubert who sees this side of her and yet even so she wishes it could be no one at all. The future Flame Emperor, reduced to a shaking wretch of a thing; she has borne this shame before though, and she will bear it again and again, as many times as it takes. For her siblings, for Fodlan, she can do it all.</p><p> </p><p>The last minutes of the hour stretch on so long that she doubts she will remember anything of their conversations tomorrow, but the bell finally begins to toll.</p><p> </p><p>“Well then,” he says, head cocked to one side until the final ring sounds out across the courtyard, “I believe that will do for tonight.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>She wants to wait, until the morning, until the evening, until the next night, but his fingers brush his wrist and she has to screw her eyes shut to keep from grabbing him again.</p><p> </p><p>“If you will give me a moment, my lady.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course, Hubert,” she husks out. The smell is so strong now that his wrist is bared to the air. She cannot open her eyes and see it, it turns her stomach to see him letting his blood flow so freely at the same time it renews the hunger tenfold.</p><p> </p><p>The gentle drip of it at first turns into an even flow, and she hears his heartbeat speed in response to the pain. He smells not like fear, though, like something else she cannot identify and he never gives explanation for.</p><p> </p><p>The second he sets the small goblet down again she is across the room, the hunger turning her into an undignified beast as she picks it up. She licks the blood that shaking hands spill over the lip of the goblet, and Hubert stares openly for a moment before turning away. Disgust, she knows. Second only to the disgust with herself.</p><p> </p><p>His blood tastes of blackberries- tart, but sweet -with the hue of a red peony, and this amount hardly takes the edge off of her hunger but it does enough.</p><p> </p><p>With her hunger sated for the moment she sighs, and resists the urge to lick the goblet clean. He watches her again, eyes searching her for something until he finds it.</p><p> </p><p>“If I may, my lady,” he says as he pulls a handkerchief from his pocket. It’s only that she just has partaken in his blood that makes her feel a rush of blood to her face at his wiping a spot of blood from her nose.</p><p> </p><p>The casual contact is normal, and yet she is struck with a strange emotion at it this time, here in her room with the taste of his blood on her tongue and the scent of soap from his handkerchief. His gloved hand is gentle on his chin as he dabs at the spot with a frown.</p><p> </p><p>“A difficulty on skin as well.”</p><p> </p><p>“I will apply extra powder there tomorrow.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course. Then, I will take my leave, Lady Edelgard.”</p><p> </p><p>“Goodnight, Hubert.”</p><p> </p><p>The door clicks shut behind him, and she hears his footfalls as he makes his way to his room. If she lays on her bed she can hear him better, for all that she can already hear him well enough, but it would be an intrusion.</p><p> </p><p>She returns to her studies instead, and tries not to hear his pained sounds as he tends to his wound.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>His wound has yet to heal. She notices only because his right wrist is the one he favours tonight as he hands her her meal, and she uses her speed to her advantage. When she grabs his wrist he winces, and she doesn’t allow him to pull away; even without the additions to it her affliction gives her she is well aware of the difference in their physical strength.</p><p> </p><p>It’s late enough that only they remain awake; the academy has fallen silent and so her voice too is quiet enough not to wake anyone, especially luckily not Ferdinand who obsessed with propriety as he may be is far too much of a busybody to not interfere.</p><p> </p><p>“Show me, Hubert,” she says. Her voice is sharp even to her own ears, but he puts up no resistance.</p><p> </p><p>He rolls down his glove carefully and she winces in sympathy. The wound is still open as though fresh, rather than the scab it usually heals to by now, and angry red and mottled purple as though bruised from repeated strikes against it. “Hubert, this should have healed by now.”</p><p> </p><p>He makes no noise when she touches her fingertips to it; it’s warm with the start of infection and she looks up at him. “You must see Professor Manuela.”</p><p> </p><p>“It is a mere flesh wound, my lady,” he says. His voice is breathy with pain, and anger flares in her.</p><p> </p><p>“A flesh wound? And yet it looks as though the day you did it. You may go now, Hubert, I have no need of you in this state.”</p><p> </p><p>When she steps back from him he takes a breath, but bows, “as you wish.”</p><p> </p><p>“I mean it, Hubert, I will not call for you until you’ve seen to this,” she continues. How foolish of him, and of her to not notice! Anger continues to smolder under her skin even after he goes, and she sets the goblet aside. It isn’t hunger that sends her striding out of the room, and down the stairs to the courtyard.</p><p> </p><p>The air is heavy with the scent of salt and flowers from the greenhouse, the moon nearly full and dashing bright light across the expanse of the grounds. She needs little in order to see; her night vision is far better than a human’s, but all the same she sticks to the lighter areas as she walks. A mild word for the stomping she does, really.</p><p> </p><p>It’s far too late for anyone to be out and about, and so she can move around as she pleases, still seething. What is he thinking? She has not blinded herself to his sacrifices, she knows well the pain he suffers every two weeks for her. And yet, it had looked worse than it ever had. She might have understood were he the type to train with an axe or other such weapon, but magic came from within and the training for that took more mental energy than physical. He should not have still been so injured, and with the time for their plan to be put into motion drawing ever nearer she cannot have him in anything less than perfect condition.</p><p> </p><p>She comes to a stop by the chapel, and turns away without crossing the bridge. There are guards, this late, Rhea no doubt trying to keep hold of the church’s secrets under the guise of general security. The night air is cool, though, and she rests her forearms on the stone railing and sighs out the remainder of her anger.</p><p> </p><p>It doesn’t become a future Emperor to throw a temper tantrum, she decides, but takes solace in the fact that no one is around to see it but Hubert who is well accustomed to her temper by now even if it is rare that it be directed at him.</p><p> </p><p>A cat meows behind her, and she bends to hold out her hand, “I am afraid I have no fish for you tonight.”</p><p> </p><p>As is typical, it startles at first; animals sense her strangeness and the cats are not the only ones wary of her. The cats, however, are easily plied with food and so they have come to trust her though it is albeit a shaky alliance.</p><p> </p><p>He purrs when she rubs the spot behind his ears and she feels herself calm further. Just a little bit longer of this. Just a little while longer of choking back the flames in her throat she will use to burn the rotten foundations of Fodlan to cinders.</p><p> </p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>The days turn into weeks, and her hunger builds once again. Hubert does not mention his wound, but she no longer smells the infection on him and so she does not feel the need to check it. She drinks of him again, and they resume their routine and her determination to stretch each meal longer. It leaves her weak, but still stronger than most; of any of them, only Dorothea and Linhardt notice. Linhardt, however is less of a problem than Dorothea, curious as he may be about things that interest him it seems as though Edelgard is not on that short list.</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe you should come to my room and have some tea, Edie, we could have a girl’s night,” she says after a particularly long lecture. The rest of the class have dispersed, Hubert away on a mission, and it appears that Dorothea awaited this precise moment to strike, “I have some that was a gift, it works wonders for… women’s afflictions.”</p><p> </p><p>Funny how it isn’t the leaving of blood from her body that causes her poor condition, but the lack of it coming in. She presses the back of her hand to Edelgard’s forehead without hesitation, “hmm, no fever.”</p><p> </p><p>“I am quite alright, Dorothea, thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh? So you won’t spend time with me? And here I thought I’d finally gotten your attention,” she bats her eyelashes, and Edelgard ducks her head. Of course, anyone looking at her gazing at Dorothea might get the wrong idea, but she hasn’t eaten since Hubert left.</p><p> </p><p>“You already have it,” she answers and allows herself to be grabbed by the arm, “You are an asset to us, you know.”</p><p> </p><p>“Only to <em>us</em>? And who might the other person be?” she asks, her tone teasing and gentle as she begins pulling Edelgard along with her. Her eyes widen comically, and she lowers her voice, “don’t tell me… You and Hubie-“</p><p> </p><p>“No-I-Hubert is-“</p><p> </p><p>Her confidant, her friend? Her meal.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh Edie, you’re too easy, you know.”</p><p> </p><p>“Dorothea…”</p><p> </p><p>Her chest is warm against Edelgard’s arm. She smells sweet, like flowers and vanilla, and it’s overwhelming for all that the smell is far from offensive. “Come on, isn’t there anyone you like? What better time than now to look for someone?”</p><p> </p><p>“I… No, I have little time to consider such matters.”</p><p> </p><p>They’ve reached Dorothea’s modest lodgings before she realizes, and her face is warm but not quite burnt yet. Luckily, Dorothea interprets it as a blush.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, let’s consider it now. What do you think of,” she hums as she prepares the tea, and Edelgard realizes there are no servants here to do it for her in stark contrast to her own home. Of course, Dorothea is a commoner. “How about…Caspar?”</p><p> </p><p>“Caspar von Bergliez? I would never be allowed, the way things as they are now,” Edelgard answers as she takes the delicate, but slightly worn teacup from Dorothea’s hands.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not asking if you would be <em>allowed</em>, Edie, I’m asking if you find him <em>handsome</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>She has scarcely thought of it, and not only because of her plans. The Empire has little care for love; she will marry the man most suited to create an heir, by the current system. Her own mother is little more than a footnote in the history books of her home, though now her name will be the only one of the others to have borne the heir to the Adrestian Empire. The rest, she assumes, are rarely mentioned even in passing.</p><p> </p><p>She has spent too long thinking, Dorothea sits beside her on the bed and tips her head to the side. “Or maybe, it’s someone…softer?”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The confusion must show on her face, because Dorothea giggles behind her hand, “you would hardly be the first, you know, if that were the case that you preferred… company other than that of a man.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh? So there is someone?”</p><p> </p><p>The conversation is so far outside of her expertise that it sets her teeth on edge. She smiles and shakes her head, “no, no one. Apologies, Dorothea, but my love life is not so interesting as to warrant a conversation.”</p><p> </p><p>She thinks of Hubert’s face, but tells herself only hunger causes it to come to her mind.</p><p> </p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>He returns too late. They’ve already begun this month’s mission, and Hubert is allowed to come along, but not participate in the battle. For the best, she supposes; she feels ravenous. She acts by rote, swinging her axe at the enemies of the church despite knowing that given different circumstances they might have been friends of hers. The enemy of her enemy is her friend, after all.</p><p> </p><p>Despite her hunger she refrains from taking any blood from the people she fights-they have fallen by her hand already, she will not drink from them as well even if she feels sluggish and slow without a meal.</p><p> </p><p>She doesn’t just feel it, she<em> is</em> slower than usual. A sword slices through the air and she isn’t fast enough. She takes the hit with a grunt, and cleaves the man’s head in two. More than a flesh wound, but hardly worth attention. She continues onward, until she doesn’t.</p><p> </p><p>Professor Manuela flits around her not unlike a bird, but her movements are practiced. The wound on her side knits itself back together under the green light of her magic. It will have done so on its own, eventually but the lack of pain from the wound quiets the cacophony of it from everywhere else. No way of knowing how long she has been out for. The sky above her is overcast, and yet she hears the sound of footfalls just the same.</p><p> </p><p>“Lady Edelgard,” Hubert calls out, and Professor Manuela nods, and says something Edelgard barely hears through the thick haze of her hunger. Not long, then, if Hubert has only just reached her.</p><p> </p><p>He leans over her, his face pinched with worry as his eyes survey her. She realizes all at once he means to carry her, and forces herself to push his hands away.</p><p> </p><p>“I can walk,” she says and somehow manages to get herself upright. One foot in front of the other. Humiliation heats the back of her neck, and she pauses to regard the rest of her classmates. They look worse for wear, but none as much as her, though it’s enough that they spare her little more than a glance as she heads to the medical tent.</p><p> </p><p>They don’t speak until they’re inside, secluded from the rest of the people nursing minor wounds. It stinks of blood and mud, the cots and bedrolls spread out upon the bare floor in their haste to construct it before the rain comes.</p><p> </p><p>“Professor Manuela said you must rest.”</p><p> </p><p>“Only for a moment. I can continue,” she replies and drops onto one of the cots. Magic heals wounds well, but nothing can ease the pain she feels. She closes her eyes against the hunger pangs, and the smell of him for a moment, then look up at him, “It was only a minor wound.”</p><p> </p><p>He shakes his head, his jaw set as he bows, low enough that her own back hurts just looking at him, “my lady, forgive my lateness, I-“</p><p> </p><p>“No, I should have considered before I acted.”</p><p> </p><p>“It is my failure which has caused today’s spectacle, Lady Edelgard. I will gladly take any punishment you see fit,” he says as though she is in the habit of punishing him. As though drinking from him is not punishment enough.</p><p> </p><p>“Please, Hubert, it was a simple mistake. One we will not make again.”</p><p> </p><p>He kneels before her, and she sighs. Even despite this path being theirs, he still defers to her like this, but regardless of anything Hubert remains Hubert. He holds out his wrist, and bares it to her, his eyes meeting hers for only a second before lowering again. She follows the healing pink scar running across his wrist with her eyes, and then she has her teeth in him.</p><p> </p><p>He makes no sound, and she bites back the hungry growl in her throat as blood wells up from the twin holes in his wrist. She doesn’t think before she acts, a theme of today it seems, and laps hungrily at the wound like the starving beast that she is. Warmth fills her body with every mouthful of blood, and she wipes her mouth with the sleeve of her jacket once, before she bites him again.</p><p> </p><p>It’s like eating a full course meal after a week of nothing, though it has been far longer, the flavour of his blood bursting across her tongue before she swallows like the most delicious of fruits from the greenhouse. Every one of her nerves buzzes with delight, with satiation and she makes a noise against his wrist. She is heavy, full for the first time in nearly a year, and she continues licking the wound like a starving man licking his plate clean.</p><p> </p><p>“My lady.”</p><p> </p><p>When she raises her eyes to his face she pulls herself back. He’s pale, sweating, and his free hand shakes though he only carefully extricates himself from her grip.</p><p> </p><p>“Hubert, are you-“</p><p> </p><p>“I will lie down for a moment, but first,” he answers and swipes his handkerchief over her face as usual, though it lacks the same amount of surety it usually has. It’s only when she sees how bloody it is that she realizes how much she has taken. Too much, like a glutton she has gorged herself on him and he uses a hand braced on the cot to get to his feet.</p><p> </p><p>“I was successful,” he continues after a moment.</p><p> </p><p>“I expect your full report when we return to Garegg Mach.”</p><p> </p><p>He bows his head, “Of course.”</p><p> </p><p>The battle is nearly over when she returns to it, but she might well be able to fight hundreds. Her axe weighs less than a feather in her hands, and she crosses distances far quicker than even Ferdinand upon his horse. The voices of their enemy and her classmates ring in her ears; terror and praise in equal measure, and she does little to dissuade them. They may think whatever they like about her, but she owes it to Hubert to make the most of what he has given to her.</p><p> </p><p>They wipe out the rest of the faction with ease, leaving the battlefield a stinking, steaming mess of bodies. Soon, she tells herself. Soon the church will answer for its actions and she will bring a new dawn to Fodlan.</p><p> </p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>When she does sleep, it’s fitfully. Her dreams are a constant reminder of her mission, made only worse by being within the walls of Garegg Mach, and the absence of Hubert’s breath through the wall to keep her from waking screaming but things advance quickly. Jeritza has made his move, and left Kronya in his place.</p><p> </p><p>From the moment she steps out of her room Kronya sticks to her like leather to sweaty skin, wearing the face of someone else. Hubert remains away, everything put into place on his end of things as expected.</p><p> </p><p>“You seem like you’re handling it quite well; does anyone know?” she asks that morning, her innocent smile just as fake as everything else about her.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course not. You know better than to discuss such things so easily, Monica.”</p><p> </p><p>She giggles, the sound grating, “Oh Edelgard, you’re such a prude. I mean, there are so many tasty snacks here; you’re telling me you haven’t had even one? What about that teacher?”</p><p> </p><p>Kronya knows well what she says. Every word out of her mouth is pointed like a blade, aimed directly between Edelgard’s ribs and responding to her only goads her to continue so she holds back any replies that are not moderate. Hardly the first time she has had to do so, and yet it feels like a thousand tiny blades scraping across her skin anyway.</p><p> </p><p>“No. I have my own ways.”</p><p> </p><p>“Still drinking from that ghoul of a man, I see. You beasts are all the same,” she says in a sing song voice.</p><p> </p><p>Her strength being what it is, she can easily crush her windpipe and shut her up. Instead, she continues walking, “yes, I suppose.”</p><p> </p><p>“You aren’t fooling me, Edelgard,” Kronya whispers when they reach the classroom, and Edelgard finds her seat for the day without replying.</p><p> </p><p>It isn’t Kronya she need worry about, after all.</p><p> </p><p>--</p><p> </p><p>“I must request you not be so demanding of Lady Edelgard’s time,” Hubert says the moment he returns and finds Kronya still clinging to her at the training grounds. Felix Fraldarius is as always present, though he speaks little to anyone and if he does care for anything he overhears he does not show it.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not bothering her!” Kronya replies, and Edelgard glances to Hubert. The silence between them speaks enough, and though he can hardly force Kronya away she appreciates it all the same. “Right, Edelgard? We’re just two best friends having a chat.”</p><p> </p><p>“Prior to a training session, yes. If you will excuse me, Monica.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll aid you! You can practice with me!”</p><p> </p><p>She grits her teeth but schools it into a smile that likely only Hubert sees as the grimace it is, “if you say so.”</p><p> </p><p>Powerless as he may be to do anything, Hubert’s presence calms her somewhat. Kronya will do nothing more than tease and torment her, but it is enough to keep her on edge. The smell of her that precedes her morning arrival is enough to get her canines threatening to push themselves out, though she keeps them carefully hidden. A beast she may be, but the words are all she will allow Kronya to have against her.</p><p> </p><p>A hard won hit with the practice axe is enough to have her shrieking loud enough that even Felix turns his head to glare.</p><p> </p><p>“We’re only practicing, you know!” Kronya cries out, waving the short sword in her hand with a pout, “you could seriously hurt someone, you know!”</p><p> </p><p>“My apologies, Monica.”</p><p> </p><p>The bell tolls and Hubert cuts Monica off before she can jog to stand at Edelgard’s side. “If you will excuse us, Monica.”</p><p> </p><p>“Bye, Edelgard, see you tomorrow morning!”</p><p> </p><p>She says it so plainly, for all that it’s a threat. Edelgard barely makes it down the stairs to the training grounds before her fists are clenching and she huffs out a breath.</p><p> </p><p>“She is persistent,” Hubert says, and she barks out a laugh.</p><p> </p><p>“Persistent. Yes.”</p><p> </p><p>He chuckles, “I would be improper to use harsher words in front of you, my lady, though I can think of a few which suit her quite well.”</p><p> </p><p>Her shoulders relax, and she follows Hubert to the library. The only person here with any regularity is of course Linhardt, and Solon, but both are notably absent today. Or more accurately, Linhardt is sleeping on a pile of books. She will wake him later if only to remind him to come to class.</p><p> </p><p>Nonetheless they retreat to the furthest spot in the stacks of books and keep their voices barely above a whisper. Hubert stands with his back to the rest of the library, shielding her from prying eyes. The cramped conditions have him standing closer than usual and she thinks of her conversation with Dorothea for a moment.</p><p> </p><p>Her mouth waters.</p><p> </p><p>“We can count on the support of the Bergliez, of course.”</p><p> </p><p>“I see. Then have Randolph and Ladislava ready for the coming months. And what of the Prime Minister?”</p><p> </p><p>Hubert’s mouth thins further to a line, “he remains… resistant. Should he continue to be so I will take care of it come your coronation, Lady Edelgard.”</p><p> </p><p>“Right. And your father?”</p><p> </p><p>“The bird need not worry for the worm,” Hubert answers with the emotional response of him relaying the weather to her. She is well aware of his feelings towards him, and neither of them are blind to the action which must be taken in the end. Marquis Vestra will die and add to the blood on Hubert’s hands. For her. For Fodlan’s future. There are no adequate words, and so she says nothing of it.</p><p> </p><p>“I see. The High Priestess has been closer to Professor Byleth of late; she has something planned that much is clear… That sword, as well remains an issue.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, it would appear the Professor is in possession of a crest as well if wielding it poses no issues. Certainly, we would know by now were that the case,” he replies. Miklan had been fool enough to wield a hero’s relic without one, and they have all heard by now of the result of that despite Rhea’s best efforts to keep it under wraps. “But I suppose all eyes are upon the Battle of The Eagle and the lion for the moment.”</p><p> </p><p>“I suppose.”</p><p> </p><p>Of course, she wants to win though it is only a mock battle, at the very least to test the strength of the other houses. With Byleth on their side Claude’s house will be the one to beat; Dimitri will as always attempt to fight her first, and if they move carelessly all that will need to be done is for Claude to mop up the remaining weakened fighters to take the win. She is certain that will be his strategy, in any case.</p><p> </p><p>“Have you eaten?” he asks, recognizing the important conversation has passed for the moment.</p><p> </p><p>“Not since you left. Truthfully, I’m starving.”</p><p> </p><p>He has been gone scarcely a week and a half, and still she hungers as though it has been months. He only nods, “very well.”</p><p> </p><p>She doesn’t bother arguing with him. Right now is when she needs her strength the most. But then he begins rolling up his sleeve and she looks at him, the confusion likely as plain on her face as it feels.</p><p> </p><p>“I have little doubt you will have unwanted company tonight.”</p><p> </p><p>It’s unlikely he is incorrect but all the same it feels. Different. Like one of the trysts Dorothea tells her about. She puts the thought from her mind-it’s hardly the same, Hubert is only thinking of her comfort and nothing more.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, I suppose the possibility cannot be denied. Thank you, Hubert.”</p><p> </p><p>He does not bend this time, but he averts his eyes as though she has disrobed in front of him. Her face warms at the thought though he says nothing. She brushes her thumb along the inside of his wrist and he inhales.</p><p> </p><p>The difference in their height being so large makes it easy for her to bring his wrist to her mouth. The previous bites haven’t scarred, the self-inflicted cuts have faded nearly to white on this wrist now. When she inhales she smells a hint of sweat and his pulse thrums quicker in response.</p><p> </p><p>It isn’t until she sinks her teeth into him that he breathes out, slow and controlled as he fights the pain of it. Edelgard pulls away and watches the blood spring up from the wound before she licks it away.</p><p> </p><p>“Unlike you to play with your food, my lady,” he says softly. His voice sounds strained, and she guilt stirs in her stomach.</p><p> </p><p>“Does it hurt?” she asks. His skin is slick, soft beneath her lips. She turns his wrist slightly to chase a bead of blood that escapes her tongue and she hears him swallow loudly.</p><p> </p><p>“You are more than gentle, your highness.”</p><p> </p><p>Hunger and worry spurs her to continue; surely by now Hubert must be used to seeing her drink, but it is quite a different experience to see her drink from him directly, she’s certain. It <em>feels</em> different to her. His body is cool, but his blood is warm, fresh without the faint aftertaste of steel at the beginning. He tastes familiar by now and comforting-like a favourite meal-and warmth she isn’t sure comes from his blood blooms in her chest. She doesn’t realize her eyes are closed until a nearby sound forces them open again.</p><p> </p><p>Hubert remains as he is, however. For a long second his gaze lingers on her, his eyes dark and his focus soft and then he turns his attention elsewhere again. She resists the sudden, strange urge to reach up and turn his head to her again and detaches herself. Her tongue swipes across her lips and she holds back the sigh of contentment that threatens to escape her. Horrifying, she wants to say, how she finds such satisfaction in such a thing.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you, Hubert,” she says instead.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course, Lady Edelgard,” comes his reply as easily as ever. His fingers press to his wrist to stop the bleeding and still he bows.</p><p> </p><p>She feels her face flush, “I need to wash. I will catch you up on the lessons tonight. If you have need of it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do not trouble yourself. However, should you have need of me, I will be in my room.”</p><p> </p><p>Her lips and teeth still tingle with the feel of his skin even hours later. She wonders, absently, if she might be drinking too much to cause such a reaction but Hubert would have stopped her if she had gone too far. Four quick raps on the door shake her from her introspection.</p><p> </p><p>She sighs, and goes to answer the door, “hello, Monica.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I've been writing up a storm rip to my webcomic lol. I just finished CF recently(weeks? Months? Who knows at this point) and yet... remembering the order of things... incredibly difficult but in my defence my mind was, as always, on thinking about edelbert so forgive me for any errors. I've tried to keep things ~ comfortably vague ~ because who cares about the main plot tbh we already know it and we're all here for vampires. Let us all no thoughts head empty with regard to timeline. Even though this takes place in VW timeline do not worry, I will not be showing Edelgard dying horribly or anything because I simply do not want to. However if when I am finished with this you'd like to write a tender thinkpiece/offshoot about vampire Edelgard dying horribly after Hubert giving her one last meal that they both think may be their last BY ALL MEANS go ahead I would like to see it. </p><p>I wanted to include Kronya however because reading the ship manifesto that marquis vestra on twitter did made me incredibly emotionally horny for the fact that Hubert is just like... out there... protecting... telling creepy clowns to fuck off because this isn't IT chapter two, Kronya. Assume that despite the lack of like. it happening in text, everyone IS speaking to one another outside of this but again. We Are Here For Vampires not Edelgard having a conversation with Ferdinand. </p><p>ANYWAY thanks again for reading I love you, I hope you enjoyed</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>"Tending his wound" if u know ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° ) what i mean ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° )</p><p>I know there's already like five million very good vampire aus for them, and I'm not especially like. good at writing them or anything but I'm following my bliss so... 2 bad I guess. This is all just build up to get El to hornily bite his neck while Hubert blatantly is also horny about it tbqh but we'll get there since of course... Hubert would never... betray her trust in him by suggesting such a thing as to drink directly from his unworthy neck... and she would never ask to do so... because he would feel pressured due to being her retainer... of course... </p><p>Anyway thanks for reading! :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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